


the moon hangs still

by raloire



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Woodsman!Wirt, wirt doesn't figure out the truth behind the lantern
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 09:06:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5158085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raloire/pseuds/raloire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Will you take on the role of the Lantern Bearer?” </p><p>The world is impossibly dark, all that exists now is the Beast’s towering form and the sound of rasping breaths.</p><p>Wirt steps forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the moon hangs still

**Author's Note:**

> this started off as a bunch of drabbles and it hasn't really changed much since then whoops

Wirt runs.

Or rather, he tries running but the snow clings to his clothes and Beatrice’s feathers, making each slow step weigh him down. The forest and the cold try to co-operate, to pull him below and bury him within the earth before his little brother’s footprints can fade away forever. 

He won’t let this stop him, can’t let it stop him. He _has_ to save Greg.

Wirt runs.

* * *

 

 Maybe in another lifetime, parallel to his own, he would’ve gotten here faster.

Hunched over and panting, Wirt’s numb fingers curl into the snow as he stares down at Greg’s sleeping form – that’s all, he’s _just sleeping_ inside the bark of an edelwood tree. Greg’s breathing is shallow, rasping and there’s branches forming out of his arms, splitting out of harsh red patches of skin and torn clothing. 

His little brother is dying and it’s all his fault.

He should’ve been faster.

He should’ve been a better brother.

* * *

Wirt cringes as he opens his eyes. Apparently he’d dozed off on the floor of the mill again and now there’s that unpleasant sickly cold squirming underneath his skin.

His dream sparks a brief fantasy that he lets grow despite his better judgement. He knows he should stop this train of thought, squish it right back into a corner of his mind. The Woodsman had taught him as much. You can hate and hate and hate the Beast with all your being but it’s much easier on your soul if you let it go. Otherwise one day, you might not be able to get up the next morning and keep the lantern’s flame going – and nothing, _nothing_ , is more important than that.

Still, just for these few private moments he thinks about the weight of the axe in his hands and imagines what it would be like to hack the monster into pieces, to slay the Beast once and for all and free the forest from his iron grip. Wirt wishes he could’ve done that when it mattered most.

If he’d just lunged for it in the snow…

Rising to his feet, Wirt begins to hum.

* * *

 

 “Will you take on the role of the Lantern Bearer?” 

The world is impossibly dark, all that exists now is the Beast’s towering form and the sound of rasping breaths.

“Would that save Greg?” His hands are shaking, he is shaking, from the cold fear coiling in his gut and he tears his eyes away from the monster in front of him. His little brother looks so small.

“It will save his soul.” 

The cold bites at his skin as he turns away from his brother.

And steps forward.


End file.
